Wild Fiction

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It was almost as good as riding a racehorse, and she had ridden enough of those in her time. She had been brought up on a farm in Exmoor. Her father bred and trained racehorses for a living and she and her brother learnt from an early age what it was like to ride a highly-strung thoroughbred.
During their teens they would race the enormous beasts across the moors. Genevieve loved the sensation of the wind in her hair and the surging power between her legs as she steered the animal on its course. Sometimes a hare would startle the horse and it would rear up but her horsemanship was excellent and she would never fall off.
The Jaguar had brought back the feeling of power she used to experience and given her back the carefree spirit she used to live by. She pressed the button on the remote control and the garage door slowly lifted up. She thought she saw a shadow move, but by the time the door was fully open there was nothing to be seen. The door to the basement was firmly closed and only the kitchen door remained open.
Her husband was standing in the kitchen putting the bread, sugar and butter in the fridge. ‘I’ve told you before,’ she said. ‘The bread goes in the bread bin and the sugar in the cupboard, not in the fridge. The only things that go in the fridge are the perishables. It’s an easy rule, if it isn’t perishable then leave it out.’
‘The bread is perishable.’
‘It’s an exception.’
She looked at the three plates with half eaten sandwiches on them that stood on the counter. ‘Were you hungry?’ she asked. ‘Eating for, let me see, one, two, three people. So, where are your friends? Did they leave of their own volition or did you chase them out when you heard me returning?’ Her hands were on her hips as she stared at him. She felt in total control as he shifted from one leg to the other and looked at the floor.
‘They left,’ he stammered. ‘They had tea and then they left.’
She knew he was lying but did not know why. She turned on her heels and headed upstairs. In the bathroom she breathed in deeply through her nose. She could smell the faint aroma of the perfume of another woman. CKOne, or maybe Escape, she could not be sure.

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